


A Swift Half

by SteveWilson



Category: Space: 1999
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveWilson/pseuds/SteveWilson
Summary: Just a fun character piece. Sandra is depressed, so Alibe and Yasko come to Command Center for an impromptu happy hour. None of these three characters ever appeared together, since they were all pretty much reading the same part.Dr. Ed Spencer and Stuart Damon's Year One pilot character, Parks, make cameos.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	A Swift Half

"I brought you a swift half."

Sandra Benes looked up from her desk, where she had been sorting a stack of notes to herself and tidying things for her relief. Her relief, Alibe, was holding out a glass of amber liquid. Sandra regarded it suspiciously. "You brought me a what?"

"A swift half. Sorry, my ill-spent London youth is showing. I brought you a half-pint of beer. Yasko said you looked like you could use it, when you took over from her this morning."

It was midnight. Normally Sandra worked day shift, Yasko evening and Alibe the overnight—or "graveyard" shift. At least, that was their schedule five days a week. Alpha still observed "weekends," during which alternates, trained by the lead Data Analysts and Communications Officers covered the desk in Command Center. Illnesses had caused a recent shakeup, and they were all working four extra hours a day. Sandra was ending her shift late, Alibe starting hers early.

Sandra reached for the glass. "That is very kind of you," she said. She took a sip and regretted it. As suspected, the liquid was revolting. She forced herself to swallow. Out of politeness, she tried to smile at Alibe. She was going to promise to take it with her and finish it in her quarters, even.

But Alibe saw her initial, unguarded reaction to the beverage. "It's awful, isn't it?"

Sandra could not help but nod. She set the glass down on the desk, hoping that the contents did not seep through and damage the furniture… or burn holes through the floor into solid lunar rock.

"Tony's?" asked Sandra.

Alibe nodded. "Only beer on Alpha, more's the pity. Sorry, he swore this batch was good, and I couldn't tell by taste. I'm a whisky girl myself."

Sandra made a face. "I don't know how you stand it. It tastes like rocket fuel."

"Maybe it's because I was born to be a pilot!"

The Command Center doors swished open again, and both women turned to see who the late arrival was. Ed Spencer was already in place, monitoring life support while listening to case notes with headphones, oblivious to his companions. The computer and reconnaissance stations were both open. Sandra had promised Kate Bullen and Bill Fraser that she had things under control until their reliefs arrived. And, of course, the command seat was rarely occupied this late, unless there was an emergency.

But it was none of the expected late shift crew who entered; it was Yasko, bearing a bottle and a small shopping bag.

"I thought you'd be asleep," said Alibe.

"I would be," their diminutive colleague said, "except that I happened to run into Tony in the rec lounge." She looked at Alibe, accusation in her dark eyes. "He said you'd asked him for beer for Sandra."

"It was a nice gesture," said Sandra.

Yasko's gaze stayed on Alibe. "I thought you were her friend!"

"Hey, I tried!"

"Well, until you develop some civilized habits, I'll have to keep rescuing you." She proffered the bottle to Sandra. "Sake. I still have three bottles left. Fortunately, a little goes a long way."

As Yasko began to unpack the contents of her bag—two small, elegant drinking bowls—onto the console's flat top, Sandra asked, "And why are you both determined to get me drunk this evening?"

"Because we're your friends," said Alibe. She sneered at Yasko. "Both of us!"

"And because you were clearly not yourself this morning when you relieved me," added Yasko. "I know there's something on your mind."

"And friends look out for each other, and they don't keep secrets," finished Alibe. "So give."

Yasko closed her eyes in an exaggerated expression of trying to maintain patience. "If it's something personal, she can't talk about it here. That's tactless."

Alibe screwed up her face in a mocking gesture.

"Come to my quarters, and we'll have dinner. I begged from vegetables from hydroponics, and I can make a stir fry—"

"Look, this is very kind of both of you," said Sandra, "but I am okay. I was going to spend a quiet evening in my quarters—"

"—Watching _The Forsyte Saga_ again," finished Yasko, rolling her eyes.

"It comforts me."

"You mean it puts you right to sleep," said Alibe.

Sandra crossed her arms. "Do not criticize my tastes. We all have our simple pleasures." She looked meaningfully at Yasko.

"So sue me that I wish I'd stayed on Earth long enough to find out if Ross and Rachel ever got back together."

"That program is moronic. I am sorry, those people had nothing on their minds but sex," said Sandra.

"Nothing wrong with that," said Alibe. "Why do you think I spend my evenings drinking with the pilots, instead of watching TV?"

"Because you're in love with danger?" suggested Yasko.

"It's not dangerous! The boys are lightweights! And one of these days, I'm going to convince Alan to overlook those three missing credits and let me fly an Eagle again. It's not my fault we got blown all to hell before I finished training."

"I believe Yasko meant you are in danger of being murdered by Annette Fraser, if you send her husband home drunk again."

"Bill just needs to learn to hydrate. And Annie should drink with us. Girl needs to get out more."

"She _can't_ drink!" protested Yasko.

"Oh yeah," said Alibe. "How the other half lives."

"Annette is thrilled to be expecting a baby," scolded Yasko. "Why do you speak about something so beautiful as if it were beneath you?"

"Because it's not what I want," said Alibe. "All my life, my mother, my aunts, the other girls in school, talked about motherhood as though it were all a woman were fit for. My mother called my wanting to join the space program—which I decided when I was six years old, thank you very much!—as 'my girl's flight of fancy.' And, much as I enjoy drinking with my mates, I know deep down half the boys in Recon think I'm just a womb with legs."

"I doubt that their thoughts probe as deep as the womb," said Sandra. Then she frowned and gazed thoughtfully at the delicate vessel of sake in her hand.

"Is it babies—children—that you're thinking about?" asked Yasko. "Is that what's got you down?"

"In a way," Sandra admitted. "I've been thinking about… well, you both met Peter."

Only days ago, Alpha had been visited by a shipload of old friends: Helena Russell's mentor, Tony Verdeschi's brother, a predatory mankiller named Diana Morris from Commander Koenig's past, and a fiance each for Sandra and Ben Vincent. Peter Rockwell—shaggy-haired, boyishly handsome, a pilot—had captured Sandra's heart during her time training for duty on Alpha. They had planned to marry when she returned to Earth. She never returned.

"He was very nice," said Yasko. "He seemed devoted to you."

"He was," said Sandra.

"Yeah, only you never 'met' him," Alibe said to Yasko. "You met a giant slime-mold with scary telepathic powers. If our minds hadn't been warped by their presence, we would have realized that is was impossible for our loved ones from Earth to just show up on our doorstep. After all—" She suddenly broke off, her eyes going wide with realization. "Oh, dammit, Sahn. Me and my big mouth. I'm sorry!"

Sandra nodded. "It is all right, Alibe. You were going to say, 'after all, our loved ones on Earth are long dead.' And you're right, they are. I knew that, intellectually. Emotionally…" she gave a little shrug. "I guess I never really thought about it." He voice cracked on the last. When she tried to finish, she only managed, "And then something that looked like Peter showed up—" before dissolving in tears.

Yasko immediately gathered her friend in her arms. Alibe placed a sympathetic hand on Sandra's back, rubbing it.

After a moment, the shaking of her shoulders slowed, and she held up her head, taking disciplined breaths. Quickly, she was back in control, the prim scholar, analyzing her environment. "We were going to have four children, Peter and I. Two boys, two girls, to do our part to replenish the population."

"I would be happy with one," said Yasko quietly.

"You need at least two," said Alibe. "So they can maintain a buddy system, in case they get lost in that wild jungle you call an art studio."

"My quarters is well-organized! I know where everything is." 

"Except the air-fresheners! How can you breathe in that stink of linseed oil?"

"To each her own," said Sandra.

"Anyway, who’s gonna father this one baby of yours? I haven't seen you on a date since—"

"I take my time with men," said Yasko. "You have to be careful with them. They're delicate."

"Yeah, you were so careful with Tony Verdeschi that Maya outmaneuvered you."

Yasko shrugged. "I'm very fond of Tony, but he's too hot-tempered for me."

"Well who do you--?"

The doors opened, and the tall figure of pilot Stuart Parks entered. He surveyed the assemblage at the monitor station and grinned. "Brought happy hour here, ladies?"

"I have not been feeling well, and they decided to cheer me up," explained Sandra.

"Well, don't stop on my account!"

"Speaking of accounts," said Alibe to the pilot, "you owe me a week's chocolate rations, or have you forgotten?"

"No, poker-face, I haven't forgotten. I just didn't realize we were on duty together."

"We're not yet. The price of entry to this room is a half-pound of peanut butter cups. Go! Fetch!"

"But—" he lifted his chin toward his station.

"I've got things under control here. In fact, it runs more smoothly without you. Go, before I start gnawing on your well-padded arse!"

Parks made a small bow. "Ladies. I shall return." He glared at Alibe. "Bearing ill-gotten chocolates."

"You are a bad influence," said Sandra to Alibe when he was gone.

"Hey, I want my chocolate. And I wanted a few more minutes with my real chums." She looked at Yasko. "So answer my question: who's your latest slow and steady quest?"

Yasko looked at the door Parks had exited and blushed.

"Parks?" demanded Alibe.

"He is very handsome," said Sandra. "And quite intelligent."

"Oh, yeah, good father material," agreed Alibe. "If you like your men looking like daytime soap stars. Can’t hold his liquor, either."

"He reminds me of Tony's brother," said Yasko.

"Well, then you'd better get a move on, before we adopt another alien and she claims him herself."

"We do not all chase after men like you," Sandra chided.

"I don’t chase them. I'm just direct. You want to have a baby, there's certain things you need to make plain before the factory goes out of business."

"How did you get so blunt?" asked Yasko. "Was there a hacksaw involved?"

Alibe laughed out loud. "Your jokes are getting better, Yaz."

Yasko rolled her eyes. She hated the nickname Alibe had visited upon her. And it was spreading. As "Sahn" had spread. Sandra didn't honestly like that one either. Alibe had dubbed herself the nickname queen of Moonbase Alpha. She had some very creative pet names for their fellows—some she didn't dare use to their faces. As far as anyone knew, she had never once called Carolyn Powell "Creampuff" in Carolyn's company.

"Maybe you need to get back on the horse, Sahn," Alibe now announced.

"What?"

"Find a man. Start on those four kids."

"'Find' a man? Are you suggesting there is one whose location I don't already know? Maybe there's a stray Archanon in the catacombs?"

"The male-to-female ratio is still in our favor. I know personally that only 17 of the men on this base are gay. That leaves—"

"How do you know?" demanded Yasko.

Alibe narrowed her eyes, and, after a moment said, "Research. Thorough. Research."

"It's a statistically predictable number," muttered Sandra.  
  


"And there's rule one—get your head out of the spreadsheets. Put down the books. Get more social."

"I am social. I simply do not feel any… _spark_ right now. Whom do you suggest I—"

"Alan."

"You are joking."

"Alan is prime father material. And easy on the eyes."

"Then you have his children. Alan is like a brother to me."

"Alan is strictly hands-off where I'm concerned. If I want to be a pilot, I can't go seducing the Captain."

"And I'm pretty sure Alan has a fetish for blondes," added Yasko.

"Anyway, if I ever settle down—"

"—Hell will host the Winter Olympics," put in Yasko.

"—I already have my candidate groomed," Alibe announced over her. "Petrov."

"Weapons section Petrov?" This from Yasko. "He seems so cold."

"He hasn't thawed from a boyhood in Siberia. But he's plenty warm when he needs to be, and he can hold his vodka."

"Petrov," muttered Sandra, trying to picture the two together.

Alibe went on. "And, as weapons officer, his skills with a sword—"

"If you finish that sentence," Sandra warned, "you will find that Commander Koenig has suddenly approved your request to join the Area Two monitoring team for the next six months."

"I didn't put in any—"

"Try me."

Alibe shuddered. "The lady means business. Okay, I'll keep my thoughts of Prodigious Pete in my own dirty little mind."

Sandra's _ochoko_ had barely been touched, but Yasko topped it off from the _tokkuri_ nonetheless.

"You missed mine," said Alibe.

"Not on duty," said Yasko. She grinned as she set down the porcelain flask and proposed, "We should start a pool. Who will be the next to have a baby, after Annie?"

"I would think Shermeen and Eddie," said Sandra.

"Don't give the kid ideas," said Alibe. "I'm trying to keep her on the straight and narrow. She's too young to have a baby. She's a baby herself."

"She thinks you're too protective of her," said Sandra.

"Which only goes to show she doesn't know what's best for her."

"And her self-appointed big sister does?"

Alibe chuckled. "I did always want a kid sister. And Shermeen's okay, when she's not off in the corner crying."

"She has done a lot less of that since she took up with Eddie."

Alibe again shook her head. "Boy's too handsy."

"Says the woman who researched the preferences of every man on base."

"Not every one—only the ones I wasn't sure about. And how do you think I know Eddie's handsy?"

Yasko's eyes went wide. Sandra said harshly, "You did _not_! He's Shermeen's boyfriend!"

"Not when she was gone on Tony he wasn't. Poor kid. He needed consoling."

"You are utterly shameless," said Yasko.

"That I am," said Alibe proudly. After a moment, she added, "No, I didn't sleep with Eddie! What do you think I am?"

"Do you want to tell her?" Sandra asked Yasko.

"I am too much of a lady to use those words," Yasko replied.

Alibe grimaced. "Remind me not to use you two as character references. Neither of you is discerning enough to see through my brash exterior to the sensitive soul beneath." 

Parks re-entered at this moment, bearing a small, plastic case which he handed to Alibe. "What did I miss? Something about seeing the real you beneath that uniform? I'm in!"

"You," said Alibe, plucking a chocolate from the box and swallowing it nearly whole, "are emphatically _out._ "

Parks merely winked. "But you're stuck with me for the next four hours!" He swung himself into the chair at his station, but sat facing Alibe, staring intently and laughing.

"Be still my heart," muttered Alibe. She looked to Sandra and Yasko. "Seriously, kill me now. I can't take four hours with him."

Yasko looked as though she might volunteer to trade shifts, but Sandra said, holding out the empty Sake vessel, "That is strong stuff. I think I had better eat. Is that offer for dinner still open, Yasko?"

Yasko smiled and nodded happily.

Alibe jerked her chin at Parks. "You're leaving me here with him?"

"You can handle him," said Sandra.

"Any time!" echoed Parks.

Alibe looked as though she might bring back up her chocolate. "Down boy." To Sandra and Yasko, she said, "But promise me we'll get together out next free shift, we'll get together so we can all have a drink at once."

"Deal," agreed Sandra. "But I might make you watch _The Forsyte Saga._ "

"Or _Friends,_ " said Yasko.

"As long as it is not 'The One with the Chick and the Duck.' It irritates me."

"I have a better idea," said Alibe. "We'll watch _Aliens._ And we'll drink every time Newt screams."

"That movie gave me nightmares when my father took me to see it," said Sandra.

"After everything we've been through, a movie can still scare you?" asked Yasko.

"That's a joke, right?" said Alibe.

"No," said Sandra. "It is not a joke. After everything we've been through, that we have feelings at all is a miracle.

-30-


End file.
